


Shelter From the Storm

by Euterpein



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Board Games, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Gen, Noah's Ark, Post-Scene: The Ark (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27852678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpein/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: How do you entertain a room full of children you've smuggled onto a big boat? A certain demon's asking (for a friend).
Comments: 22
Kudos: 27
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #09 "Game"





	Shelter From the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Guess That Author game on the SOSH Discord Server! The prompt was "Game."

“I don’t understand. What about the green one?”

The little girl sighed deeply, in the put-upon and world-weary way only a nine-year-old could manage. Giving the impression that she was pulling from a deep well of patience, she said, “The green one can’t move until the next round. It has to wait, see?”

Crowley peered at their makeshift board, lines carved into the wood of the deck itself with one of the tools he’d managed to pilfer a few days before. Laid out across it were pebbles of various sizes and colours, doing rather a poor job of mimicking the finely carved pieces the game was supposed to have. Unfortunate, but if Noah had thought to pack a board, it was far out of reach of Crowley and his little swarm.

“I can show you, Mister Crowley!” cried the little boy that had been peering curiously over Crowley's shoulder, too shy to be out among the little circle of watchers. “I used to play with my father before...” his excited expression faltered a moment, but he made a valiant effort to rally. “Before.”

A sharp cry pierced the air from the far corner of the room. Everyone in the circle froze, listening. The cry came again, louder and more insistent this time, and the group around the board sighed as one. 

“Well, I think that’s my time called, then.” Crowley gave the assembly a quick grin and the little boy a peck on the forehead as he stood up. Many of the older children followed him to where his youngest rescuees appeared to be stirring from their nap. He and a small cadre of older children (along with a few younger ones who insisted on ‘helping’) saw that every squirming bundle got changed, fed, and clothed, then dispersed throughout the room so many careful eyes could be kept on them. 

Crowley himself scooped up the youngest of them, a little girl that had been having an especially hard time since the Flood. He grabbed a small cup of goat’s milk and sat down with her against one wall, chuckling at the little gaggle of children now arguing spiritedly over the rules of the game.

He dipped his fingers in the goat’s milk and brought them to the baby’s mouth, trying to tempt her to taste.

“Crowley?”

The whole room fell silent again. Crowley froze in place, his fingers still dripping milk onto the squirming baby in his arms, and all the children seemed to hold their breath with him.

Aziraphale’s eyes were wide as he took in the scene from the doorway. Surprised, but not smitey. "I thought I heard..."

“Angel,” Crowley said, hurriedly. Pleading. He looked around, across the faces of the children he’d sworn to protect, and his eyes settled once again on the gathering surrounding the board. He swallowed, and turned back to Aziraphale. “I don’t suppose you know how to play Ur, do you?”

Aziraphale’s eyes softened, and Crowley breathed again.

They were safe.


End file.
